I don't know very much about dogs, but what I do know is that they have four legs and that they eat their food extremely sloppily. I just sit and watch them and I am beyond disgusted.
I am thinking: 'How dare that little pooch eat so damn sloppily in front of me.'
So my mom said that I need to go see a therapist to deal with this. I agreed. I was reluctant at first but then I changed my perspective after pondering the implications that it may hold.
I realized that it may be possible that I could learn to love the way a dog takes to a bowl of meat.
I realized that I could get to a place emotionally where I would even consider manufacturing dog food and selling it.
My first meeting with the therapist took place last Wednesday. It went well, I think. I don't feel all that different. It didn't really change anything in my head.
We hardly even talked about dogs at all.
Instead we just talked about my childhood and my time as a coal miner in the previous decade. I couldn't see why those topics were necessary. I don't think they're that interesting.
I just hope to never have to see another dog eat its dinner ever again. I deserve so much better.